


Drops of Ink, Leading to You

by goldfwish



Series: Drarryland 2019 [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, Hogwarts Library, M/M, Secret Messages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 02:58:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18023468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldfwish/pseuds/goldfwish
Summary: It started with a simple note, written in a fit of absolute boredom and despair.





	Drops of Ink, Leading to You

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus prompt: Harry and Draco unknowingly communicate anonymously back and forth using either 1) a wall/desk/table/tree at Hogwarts -OR- 2) an enchanted Black family artefact(s) -OR- 3) Muggle technology - Minimum: 533 words - Maximum: 1503 words. 
> 
> Thank you to meganeileen for the beta.
> 
> I had a bit of trouble writing this one, but I hope it's enjoyable anyway!

It started with a simple note, written in a fit of absolute boredom and despair. Hermione was whispering feverishly to herself in preparation for their exams, and all Harry wanted to do was go back to the dorm and sleep, maybe sneak off to the kitchens and get a snack. But no. Here he was, with a book open and his head in his hands, slowly being eaten alive by tiny words crammed into a frighteningly thick textbook. And it was only Monday night.

He sighed, abandoning all pretense of studying, and rested his head on the pages, closing his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them again, Ron was wincing in sympathy. Hermione shot him a disapproving look before disappearing behind her bushy hair and resuming her muttering. 

Harry dragged his quill across his parchment, idly scribbling nonsensical symbols and lines. His hand accidentally pushed too far and the nib ran across the wood of the library table, ink marking the surface. Without thinking much about his actions, he scrawled a word.

_Hi_

And that was that. He didn’t expect to get a response, and certainly not one the very next day. 

—-

The three of them were sat down at their usual table, and Harry was bending to get his books out of his bag, when he saw the message.

_Hello. Vandalism is against school rules, you know._

The handwriting was elegant, the letters tall and looping. Harry’s previous message was gone, so the person had probably Vanished it. He tried to ignore the response, opening up his History of Magic textbook to read about the Great Squid Rebellion of 1358, but his eyes couldn’t help glancing back at the inked words every few seconds. 

Eventually, Hermione declared they could take a break and go to dinner. 

He looked up to make sure no one was looking before hurriedly writing a response, the nib of his quill catching on the wood grain.

_Says the vandalizer._

There was a reply the next day after dinner.

_The correct term is vandal. Although, I’m not surprised you didn’t know that. Also, you could do me the courtesy of Vanishing my message before writing yours, but I see you have appalling manners as well as intelligence._

Harry was startled into a smile when he read that. He made sure to Vanish it before replying.

_You know, you could lighten up a bit. No need to be such a posh prat._

By the time the three of them left, the sun had gone down. Torches lined the corridor outside the library, orange light flickering against the walls. They were about to climb up the stairs to go up to the Gryffindor common room when they heard the sound of shoes softly clicking against the stone floor. 

Harry turned to see Malfoy walking past, toward the entrance to the dungeons. He glared at him automatically, getting ready for some kind of sharp barb or sneer, but Malfoy just looked at him, face strangely blank, before disappearing down the stairs.

“Huh. That was weird,” said Ron. Hermione was staring at the space Malfoy had been, a thoughtful look on her face. Ron shrugged and walked away, and Harry shook his head. Malfoy was confusing sometimes.

—

It had been a week, and Harry had formed a routine of sorts with his library-desk-pen-pal. He would write something, they’d insult him one way or another, Harry would retaliate. It should’ve made him angry, being insulted about his intelligence daily. But strangely, it didn’t. The other person could actually be kind of funny with all of their long-winded complaints and sarcastic humor. 

He’d also started having more weird encounters with Malfoy since that night in the corridor. It was little things; an exchange of nods as they crossed paths in the hall, a moment of eye contact as Harry chewed on a scone during breakfast. It was as if their previous dynamic of insults, glares, and general animosity had just… vanished. 

It was strange, but if Harry was being honest with himself, he didn’t really mind. 

—-

They were partnered up in Potions.

The teacher had paired everyone up randomly, and when he called out their names, Malfoy didn’t even flinch. He just silently picked up his stuff and moved to stand next to Harry.

They were supposed to be brewing something, but Harry didn’t know what. He was too busy studying Malfoy’s face as he diced ingredients with deft fingers, trying to figure him out. The steam from the simmering cauldron weaved through tendrils of his hair, curling it slightly. 

Malfoy stirred the potion with a glass rod, bringing one hand up to brush his hair away from his eyes, tucking it behind one ear. It was useless though, as it just slipped back a few seconds later. Harry’s hands itched with the sudden impulse to reach over and push it back for him. It was annoying, that was all. 

And if Harry startled a bit when Malfoy asked him in a soft voice to “pass the dandelion root, please,” well. That was no one’s business but his own.

—

A few weeks had passed, and Harry was almost, dare he say it, eager to go to the library everyday now. It was Saturday, just after Quidditch practice, and he had earned himself a look from Ron, like he’d gone insane, and a pleased, knowing little smile from Hermione, when he’d told them he was going to go study.

When he got to the library, Malfoy was just heading out, and he smiled at Harry as he passed. Harry had just managed to give a small, confused smile back when he disappeared down the corridor. 

His cheeks felt warm. Probably from Quidditch, he told himself.

He sat down at the desk, eyes widening when he saw the message. 

_You looked good at practice today. My form is better, obviously, but it suits you, riding a broom._

The note made Harry redden even more, the tips of his ears warming with a pleased flush. He got out his quill, hesitating for just a moment before scribbling a sentence.

_What’s your name?_

The next day, he was practically vibrating in his seat, waiting until he could run off to the library to see if he, and Harry was pretty sure they were a _he_ , had replied. 

As soon as the class was dismissed, he shoved his books into his bag and dashed out the door, mumbling “gotta go” to a perplexed Ron and Hermione. 

He burst into the library, ignoring the pointed glare from Madam Pince as he made his way over to the usual table. His heart was beating in a steady staccato rhythm, tense and thrilling all at once.

Black ink wrapped around familiar handwriting, the sturdy desk a stark contrast against the delicate lettering.

_Hogsmeade, Three Broomsticks, Saturday noon. I’ll see you then.  
-DM_

Harry grinned. He couldn’t wait.


End file.
